Bar

The atmosphere in the Cafe Bongo
is perpetually criss-crossed
by so many silent messages
that, were they visible,
the whole dive would be
rainbow-colored spiders' webs
from floor to ceiling:
red strands of lust,
blue longings, waitings, and hopings,
tingling yellow signals that it's time
to take the first step — permission's
been covertly asked and covertly granted —
and, naturally, there has also to be
some coal-black thread
of contempt and disappointment
and outright hatred.

— Johanna Sinisalo, "Troll: A Love Story"